


roads we lead

by PlaidLove



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Gender-Neutral My Unit | Reflet | Robin, Multi, Other, actually bigender robin but using neutral pronouns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 12:01:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 17,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14043840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlaidLove/pseuds/PlaidLove
Summary: post-canon. Robin had a life before Grima burned out their memories and is determined to find out what kind of person their mother was.Naturally that means a road trip all over the continent. Updated sporadically.





	1. Chapter 1

“A trip?”

“More of..." Robin tapped their bottom lip, still unsure how to word the potentially lengthy leave of absence, "a journey of internal discovery?"

-

In the passing years, the dust of war and Grima's shadow had begun to settle n Ylisse. More or less. The effort Ylisse was taking to rebuild and reforge itself under Exalt Chrom was slow going, and without clamor of world shaking events, Robin had found themself looking out beyond Ylisstol and the surrounding country. It was... boring, to put a word to it, and Robin had felt it was finally time to explore that closed door from their past.

Early evening light threw large splashes of orange and red upon Robin and Chrom as they stood side by side by the long table. The continental map had been painstakingly laid into it, and Robin watched as their friend's fingers slowly traced old war marches as he thought over Robin's announcement. Robin could see his eyes glaze over, lost in the not so distant past. After a long minute of contemplation, his fingertips stopped at the northern shore where Ylisse and Regna Ferox met.

“Then I'm coming with you.” The spark had returned to Chrom's eye and Robin grinned back at him. They wouldn't have it any other way.

“ _Will_ the council let you go for that long?” It was increasingly rare that Chrom had a moment without a senator or their lackey trying to chase Chrom down about some piece of legislature.

“Ylisse can manage for a week.”

“I certainly hope it will take less than a week,” Robin said with a doubtful look at their plans piled neatly to Chrom's right. There was a sole lead that Robin knew of and it was at least two day's walk. One if they were to go on horseback. But if it turned up anything new…

Chrom smiled, easily reading his friend's concerned face.

“I'm sure Lissa would be more than happy to come with if I have to return here. She _is_ the better of us when it comes to being an envoy.”

Robin and Chrom shared a laugh that petered quickly - despite the end to Grima, Validar’s death had created yet another power vacuum in Plegia and relationships between their neighbor and Ylisse were wary at the very best. Neither was Robin keen on taking on the massive scheme of laying claim to the throne - especially to a country they did not remember. Which had in part led to the purpose of the trip; from what Validar and Grima both had said, their mother had never been seen or heard from since her escape with the infant Robin.

“My life started when you, Lissa, and Frederick found me in that field,” Robin said solemnly, eyes on the map. “...But I hope I can bring at least one more person into my life. _Back_ into my life.”

“...I'd best get preparations started then, shouldn't I?” Chrom asked with another grin and Robin matched it.


	2. Chapter 2

Preparations for Robin on the other hand, were not going well for them.

“Think, Robin, think,” they muttered midway through searching a third shelf for _Terrain_ _Terrors_ : _Erosion_ _and_   _Marshland_. “It's what you're good at!”

Another book was inspected, evaluated, and then promptly sailed over Robin’s shoulder into an awaiting chest - while truly it a war chest meant for long voyages and the initial journey was a projected two weeks at most... but one could never be too careful. Already it was nearly stuffed full of disheveled maps, tomes, novels, and texts and was leaving very little room to spare for necessities.

It wasn't until Robin had half climbed the timber bookcase, one hand blindly groping at cobwebs, did Frederick arrive with tea. His eyes went from the haphazard chest to Robin’s tenuous toehold in the geographic section.

“My dear,” Frederick smoothly tilted his head to avoid an incoming novella. “Have you… lost something?”

“My mind!”

"I see.”

Frederick placed the tea tray down on a side table wedged between two stuffed chairs - the sole clear surface of the room. His attention pointedly returned to the war chest and he silently began rolling up his sleeves. His tone was conversational when he asked, “Are you looking for a title in particular?”

“Geography!” Robin grunted as they swung to the recent history section of their little (but densely packed) library. “ _Terrain_ _Terrors_ by Merric!”

“That is a specialized volume by the sounds of it.” Frederick kneeled and began pulling the books out one by one to place them into neat stacks. "Are you going to need to bring it along?"

“It is! Because - oof - I need to study recent changes in the southern Ylissean marshes in the case it affected any travel in the last ten years.”

That certainly explained the old war maps from the initial Ylissean-Plegian war if Robin was also taking into account possible movement of refugees. Frederick carefully set one aside and tsk'd at the state of Robin’s packed clothing to began refolding. They had skimped dearly on changes of underwear as well. Patiently, Frederick listened to his spouse go through a lengthy explanation of where Robin knew they had last placed the text and its possible locations until did they finally climb down, dust and all.

“And now this mess I need to clean u-”

Frederick rose and clapped his hands clean. Packed expertly away, and now leaving ample room for more, were Robin’s things. Awaiting Robin in Frederick’s hand was the carefully preserved mossy green cover of _Terrain Terrors: Erosion _and_   _Marshland__.

Robin felt a portion of their strain leak away into a happy sigh as they threw their arms around Frederick’s neck to sag against him. “Thank you.”

"You're certainly welcome,” Frederick smiled with a warm hug back. “I understand your anticipation is outpacing you.”

The two sat - or flopped in Robin’s case - and took their cups to drink and contemplate. Robin sipped to wet their tongue and looked upon the messy shelves as if _they_ were the long and potentially disappointing journey instead.

"I've spent the last _year_ planning," they began, almost hesitantly as they chose their words carefully. "And yet… I feel completely lost. Here I plan to find a needle in a haystack and I don't even know if the needle exists.”

Frederick nodded. He had expressed his concerns some time back when Robin had first told him about their search but was never going to deny Robin his help or encourage a sense of hopelessness. This was important to Robin, and therefore Frederick.

“At the very least,“ Frederick began. “You might have a bit of closure if it comes to the worst.”

Robin hummed around a biscuit. “Possibly.”

“Or possibly... well deserved break.”

Thankfully that seemed to pull Robin from their downward spiraling thoughts and a wicked grin broke over Robin’s face. “Lissa would be proud of you to use that word.”

Frederick harrumphed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i got nothing to say except frederick being robin's husband is just mass indulgence for me


	3. Chapter 3

Crickets sang that night.

A sleepless Robin sat at the window seat, gazing blankly down upon the empty palace courtyard below. Beyond the castle walls they could spot the twinkle of lights from homes before the ground and horizon blended into one another and they could not tell star from window. Next to them the smoke of a burned out candle trailed out of their open window and twisted away into the heavy night air. It was hot and humid and Robin would not be surprised if rain clouds were to gather soon. Hopefully not. They were so close to departure that if there were any more delays now Robin felt half tempted to march alone - mud or no mud, and the court's financial meetings be damned.

Tomorrow they would all ride. Ride for the pasture that Robin had been found lying in and for Southtown. It would be good to see how the people were recovering, and not just in Southtown. If the lead turned up nothing then perhaps... perhaps they would go traveling.

Impatient for the sun, Robin’s fingers drummed on the cover of their long closed tome; it was a worn and long since useless thing now, but it was the same one that Robin had with them that day they had woken up to their new life. Over the years Robin had poured over the pages a million times in some hopes of a clue. A stamp, signature, notes- _anything_. Nothing but a common thunder tome that could be purchased nearly anywhere.

But the sword…

That was Robin’s true lead. Carefully set against the wall behind them, and with a the blade was so cracked it was better off being melted down for scrap, it had something the tome lacked. A smithy’s brand. And that meant the brand could be traced to an order history that could be potentially looked through. With help from coin, Robin winced inwardly.

Below the window, a half dressed servant came suddenly darting out from under an awning to across the courtyard. Robin looked east and sighed in relief to see a smudge of grey sitting on the horizon. They closed their eyes and breathed in deeply in another vain attempt to bring on sleep. Reading most of the night had not done a lick of good, nor had going through the preparations checklist _again_. Perhaps a round of Frederick’s warm up routine would do the trick, Robin thought with a grin. 

Instead though, they sat back and listened to crickets. Some rest was better than none, and they would soon be off.


	4. Chapter 4

Somehow, despite Robin having barely slept that night, Frederick was awake before anyone else. The Shepherds' supplies had been packed over the last two days but loading everything up would take until mid-morning. Longer if Lissa refused to leave bed (no matter how much Chrom teased her she would be left behind).

Maribelle was the saving grace in getting her wife in the saddle - as well as a handsome invitation to her own estate for rest.

"We are not at war nor on a camping trip and I shall not stand for anyone to sleep on the _dirt_.”

Which in turn had started a lengthy dispute of tents and cots and rolls - all of which Robin barely heard, as they started to doze in their own saddle.

“Look alive, Bubbles,” a voice came from down by their knee. Robin looked down to see Gaius lazily saluted up at them. "Party’s moving.”

And so they were. With Chrom and Frederick in the lead - the former being trailed after by a senator’s assistant, Trilla - the carts and horses were all marching out of the gates. Robin tapped their heels into Walker’s sides and looked back to Gaius. He was sporting a new scar on his cheek - had he gotten unlucky, or lazy?

"I thought you were in the north and up to mischief,” Robin said with a suspicion that Frederick had a hand in Gaius’ reappearance.

“Eh, you know how it goes,” Gaius made a so-so gesture. “Having a good time in a tavern, get tracked down by scary men, and have them _v_ _ery_ _politely_ inform you your bud needs some help.”

“I would have written you but-” Robin's jaw cracked with a yawn. “I didn't know where you were.”

" _Someone_ found out apparently,” muttered Gaius with a faux pout in the direction of Frederick - who had vanished ahead with Sully as scouts. Robin barely had time to contemplate the implications that their husband had potentially shady connections before Walker’s shadow spoke.

“I _can_ find anyone, after all,” the voice boasted.

“Tharja.”

“Robin.”

Gaius grimaced at her sudden materializing. “Hey, Sunshine. How’re the, uh… orphans?”

Tharja didn't grace him with his name or a nickname but instead tilted her head vaguely in greeting.

“Loud. As usual. I'm taking a vacation.”

“You mean you leapt at the chance to go south again,” Robin smirked. Tharja looked at him coolly from under her bangs. And also thick cloak.

“It's cold in Ylisse, Robin. Constantly. And _wet_.”

“Yeah, I got a question,” Gaius interrupted with a wave of his hand as if he were a schoolboy - a rotten schoolboy who placed tacks and leaned back in his chair.

"I don't care."

“If you could find me, how come you can't find mother dearest?”

Tharja glared at him so intensely Robin and Gaius were both surprised he didn't burst into flames.

"It’s… different.”

Robin had asked much of the same of Tharja when they had stopped by the orphanage she and Libra ransome months back. At the time she had attempted, but after she had burned through three manakete scales (and declining to share where she had gotten them) Tharja admitted to several reasons.

The most likely being said person didn't exist anymore.

"There… are other possibilities as well,” Tharja had amended after seeing Robin's face. They had crowded into her little “office” and she swept up the burned remains of the scale. Tharja had tapped Robin directly between the eyes and smirked when their face screwed up. “It's probably Grima’s fault for kicking her memory out of your head. Without any, or a token, it's like fishing in the desert.

“Or. My magic could be blocked. Either a ward is deflecting it or being tricked into a false negative.” She finished with a shrug and flash of fire in her palm to incinerate the useless piece of parchment she had written the spell on.

But in the present, Tharja gritted out, “You just can't hide yourself well enough.”

“That sounds like a challenge, Sunshine.”

“It's a fact, Thief.”

“Oh yeah? Then how about this-”

Robin shook their head to hide a rueful grin as they kicked Walker into a trot to weave up towards the front of the line. They would catch up with the two when there was less chance of being dragged into trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also this fic is potentially a fix-it fic for tharja.


	5. Chapter 5

As promised, the party arrived at the Themis territory by late afternoon and Maribelle’s personal estate by evening. The mansion - “I'd beaten this relic into functioning shape, I was hardly going to sell it!” - was the refurbished and rebuilt result of the Exalt Egwene era fifty years prior.

A steward met them at the coach gate and bowed to Maribelle. “Magistrate, everything is in ord- Exalt Chrom! Princess Lissa!”

Chrom and Lissa both hid their discomfort well as the steward and servants alike bowed and bobbed like simpering ducks on a pond.

Displeased noises rose up as formalities stalled disembarkment until Chrom - Naga bless his soul, thought Robin - sacrificed himself by suggesting he be shown the manor.

Soon the anxious steward, Chrom, Maribelle, Lissa, and Frederick had been swept up into the warmly lit halls.

"Dismount!” Sully called as acting captain while Frederick was gone. “Let's see to the carts and horses.”

Gratefully, Robin slid from Walker’s saddle onto wobbly knees.

"Hah, last two years sure made you soft!” Sully’s hand clapped onto Robin’s shoulder good-naturedly.

“I'll still hold you to an arm wrestle,” Robin grinned back. “Saddle sore or no, I still make all of my Fanatical Fitness Hours.”

Sully’s chin tilted up as she smiled shrewdly and knowingly.

“...most of them,” Robin amended. “Miriel is rubbing off on you too much. You’re just missing the glasses.”

“Psshaw,” Sully waved a hand dismissively and turned to unsaddle her gelding. “Love her to death but she's the brains of the operation.”

Robin patted Walker’s side and moved to begin unbuckling him. “Shame she couldn't join us. I would have loved her insight.”

"Said she'n Laurent would be back by the new moon. Wrote her to come by and pick up the trail if she came back before then.”

“Thank you,” Robin smiled.

“Where's your tyke anyway?” Easily, Sully dumped her saddle onto the awaiting post and gestured for a groom to get her a brush.

“Ahead of us, actually,” Robin closed their eyes. “And hopefully out of too much trouble.”

Sully shrugged. “Don't worry. She's a tough kid. They all are.”

Robin glanced over but Sully wasn't looking at them anymore, but out over the hedges and fields to wherever Kjelle and Laurent were.

“..You're right. He's going to be fine. All of them are.”

"Damn straight I'm right!” Sully looked too quickly away from the gate to thump a fist against her chest. “Always am.”

Robin made a face.

"Nah, nah, nah. Always.”

“Of course, Sully.”

"Oh, wipe that grin offa there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [whispers into the mic] I fukkin love Sully


	6. Chapter 6

It was foolish to think everything would go so easily, Frederick chided himself. Another crack-boom of thunder went off outside and lightning briefly lit the dark and empty hall.

There was someone loose in the manor.

Chrom was safely in his chambers despite his protests that he should be with the others searching. Meanwhile Maribelle was leading the charge in the search for the intruder in her home and Lissa had followed before anyone could say or do otherwise.

Robin, warmth of his heart, had also followed with them as protection and assistance. Frederick smiled coldly to himself as he stood guard. The intruder would not stand a chance against Robin’s skill.

And yet worry, his constant companion ate away at him from the inside. Muffled within the suite he heard Chrom swear to himself and Stahl’s equally muffled answer.

The dastard was wise enough to use the weather as cover - and had most likely helped summon it by Tharja and Ricken’s understanding before they too had split into the three search parties.

Footsteps, quickly and nervous but loud enough to be heard over the rain, came from down the hall. Frederick let his blade catch the light of another lightning strike.

“Who approaches?"

Inside the suite, Stahl and Chrom’s conversation died abruptly and the owner of the footsteps came around the corner.

A servant of the manor whom Frederick vaguely recognized from the earlier tour. A footman.

The servant saw the blade and his already wide eyes grew larger. A pocket note was held up as if a flimsy shield. “L-langus, Sir! I bring word from Madam Maribelle.”

“Approach.”

Behind Frederick, the suite doors cracked open and Stahl slipped out to stand beside Frederick.

Stiffly, Langus did so with the note still held outstretched as if in fear he would be attacked without it.

“Madam wishes to update the others on the situation,” explained Langus.

During dinner Maribelle had spoken to her guests of a bandit crew that had stripped manors bare during the wars.

“Fled like cowards when the risen came,” Maribelle had remarked bitterly about the owners. “Rather than see to their people and lands they ran to the capital.”

Which had led to the criminals easily gaining power in a land abandoned by law. Two years later they remained a threat to nobles and commoners alike.

“Have they apprehended the intruder?” Frederick lowered his sword a fraction.

Langus shook his head no and extended the note, unsure who to hand it to. “Madam and the others have found clues that-”

Stahl swung high and Frederick swung low.

Only to clash in sparks as both of their blades hit assassin's defensive blades. Langus’ sleeve was left a shredded mess and he leapt backwards with a scowl.

“Death to the Magistrate!” Langus snarled.

Lightning erupted again and threw the hall into dazzling light. Only this time it did not fade but grew more and more intense.

The assassin was being hit repeatedly with thunder magic. Three, four,  _ five _ hits in succession and Langus stood paralyzed with each bolt.

As quickly as they came, the magic stopped and thunder rumbled outside. The assassin crumpled to the floor.

Robin, Ricken, and Lissa all stepped from their respective shadows and lowered their hands.

“I'd say I feel bad for him but…” Stahl grimaced as he disarmed and bound the limp (but very much alive) man.

“Some assassin,” Lissa put her hands on her hips. “Couldn't find Mari so he went for the bigger target!”

Chrom emerged from the suite with a put off expression. “And here I missed all of the action.”

“Can’t have you in the line of fire now, can we?” Robin teased.

“I agree with milord Chrom” Maribelle frowned down at the assassin as she appeared from her earlier hiding place with Tharja, Sully, and personal guards. “I don't enjoy the feeling of helplessness.”

“Once we realized it was an assassination attempt rather than a thief, we could not have you left being targeted quite so easily,” Frederick attempted to reason.

Discussion and explanations quickly filled the hall and Frederick looked back to the assassin. Secured, Sully and Stahl both half-marched, half-dragged him in the direction of an awaiting cellar for questioning and detainment by the local authorities.

Robin touched his elbow and Frederick felt the wrinkle between his eyebrows smooth a fraction. 

His dearest - Frederick’s anger rose. In part of the attempt on his countryman’s and friend’s life but also that Robin’s own quest would be delayed significantly as a result.

Together they watched the assassin be taken away, lightning and thunder crashing ominously.


	7. Chapter 7

"Any suspects?”

" _Far_ to many for myself to start naming. At least until this unwelcome pest wakes up again.”

The party had moved itself to Maribelle’s sizable library and had spread themselves about the main table and chairs. While Maribelle whipped herself up into frenzied march behind them, Robin’s eye caught the title of law book after law book upon the shelves in front of them. The texts came from anywhere from the frozen seas to the deserts - and any _time_ as well by the dates written on the spines. 

“The former magistrate, Tillim, had many enemies. He was, er, how to say-” Maribelle came to a stop and glanced to the royal siblings seated at the head of the table. With a shrug, Lissa spared her wife from having to explain.

“He was the old man’s favorite hangman.”

“Lissa, dear-!”

“I mean it's _true_." Lissa's arms went up and nearly knocked a stack of books over. "He ignored war crimes left and right and if you managed to get someone up in court he got them pardoned!”

“Er, yes,” Chrom cut in. “So it stands to reason an enemy of his could be after Maribelle.”

Maribelle resumed her pacing with a frown, “Magistrate Tillim, however horrid, died _years_ ago. And even then under suspicious circumstances,” she tapped her chin. “It must be someone more recent.”

“What of the bandits you spoke of at dinner?” Frederick asked from beside Lissa's elbow. “I can hardly imagine it suited any of these rogues for you to take up law again.”

Maribelle turned towards her shelves and started skimming the titles with a fingertip. “Quite possibly. Langus was a rather crude fellow when I first started training him.”

“You trained him?” Robin asked.

“Personally," Maribelle tipped her chin up proudly, having finally found what she was looking for. She stepped away from the shelf and held a leather bound ledger in her arms - gods it was as thick as Robin's head was wide! - before her expression fell to irritation again. "...With some guidance of my own alongside.”

“Rather strange that he would pick now to harm you if he had multiple chances before,” Robin mused with a hand to their chin. Why now with multiple and heavily armed guards? What had changed with their arrival? But before they could run through ideas, Chrom spoke up.

“We will have to find out more when this Langus fellow wake up." 

Heads bobbed in assent. “Notify me when he does. I wish to be the first he speaks to - the traitorous rat,” Maribelle slammed open the ledger fiercely. “I have quite a few items to go through before the night is over.”

“But it's the middle of the night!” Lissa protested to her wife. “You need to sleep!”

“Justice shall prevail, my love. Though I do insist that _you_ get some shut eye after taking down the fiend.”

Squabbling ensued, but in the end, Lissa, Ricken, and Robin volunteered to assist Maribelle while Stahl and Sully stood guard. Chrom, carefully escorted by Frederick and Gaius, was whisked away to the aviary to send a message to the capital.

Those in the library pouted over Maribelle’s ledgers for every conviction in the last six months. Nobles and commoners alike had been brought before Maribelle and her courts and any one could have orchestrated the assassination attempt. In turn, any notable conviction was noted down for Maribelle to reference and review.

-

But not an hour later their work was put on hold when Tharja’s voice spoke directly into everyone’s ear - including a poor maid who had been nodding off in the corner and awoke with a yelp. “Our friend has woken up.”

Soon, everyone had poured into the cellar and with their eyes on Maribelle and the tied up Langus.

“Good evening, Langus. You imagine I must have some questions. Quite mostly this business with 'death to the magistrate?’ A line you've picked up from… where?”

“I certainly ain't telling _you_ , you puffed up peacock’” Langus snapped.

Maribelle’s pen, in lieu of her usual parasol, jabbed at Langus as if to spear him between the eyes.

“I have suffered quite the insult today, Langus,” thundered Maribelle. “Firstly with your beheading my roses, fumbling the tour, an assassination attempt, and now-! _I will not stand for this ‘ain't’ business.”_

Langus leaned back into the chair he was bound in in an effort to escape from his former employer. Terror clear on his face.

“I will ask once again and most assuredly I expect a proper answer. ...Who ordered you to kill me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> road trip troubles, amirite?


	8. Chapter 8

In the end, Langus didn't know. While he had indeed been planted by the area’s thieves in hopes of leaking information, his gang had been hired by someone he'd never met.

Or at least had never seen their face. The stranger kept themself in shadow and their voice altered - but by magic or other means, the thief had no idea.

“Came by talkin’ to the boss for weeks before bringing up you.”

The stranger had easily stirred up the thieves' greed and need for revenge and had aimed them squarely at Maribelle - and Lissa or Chrom if they were lucky.

Langus, along with most of the gang, had been swayed and planned the attack to coincide with another bandit gang’s petty thievery. With Maribelle gone, her manor and dukedom would be ripe for the picking.

At least three people had to pull Maribelle away from attacking the defenseless Langus she was so furious.

“ _Money!”_ she shouted from the other room.

But a while later when she has calmed down and others inquired about when the stranger had first arrived, did they return to the task at hand. Finding the mastermind.

“He'll be picked up in the morning for formal charges,” Robin explained to Frederick in a corner of the library.

They had been sent to fetch the documents from a case a few months back regarding in the defendant losing all of her property and inheritance after being found guilty for weapon smuggling.

“Milord also insists you continue your journey - with or without him.”

 _Milord_ had been chased back to bed all the while offended he was being treated like a child. But there was no use in having half of their company exhausted and Chrom still had to deal with the senator’s assistant - who would undoubtedly report everything back.

Robin smiled up at Frederick. They knew Frederick would be honor bound to follow Chrom through to the end of finding the culprit and Robin would not force Frederick to choose between them and duty.

“I wouldn’t abandon Maribelle in her time of need.”

Frederick gave one of his rare (and unthreatening) smiles back. As if either of them would put aside a friend.

A few bookcases away Ricken called to ask Robin if they had found the documents. Robin stood up on their toes and Frederick leaned over to share a quiet and quick kiss before their work resumed.

-

Morning came far too quickly and Lissa put down the last court case back into its bindings. Beside her, Ricken had passed out over his transcription of their potential leads and was drooling.

She stretched back, arms behind her head and gave a great big theatrical yawn. “F _inally_ \- thought those would go on forever!”

Maribelle, despite her sleep deprived eyes and hair a mess, smiled warmly over the table at her. “Thank you for your help, darling.”

“Like I'm gonna sit back while some cockroach tries to do you in! He's lucky we needed information from him or I would have fried him.”

Maribelle made an agreeing noise and Lissa folded her arms to sit back in her chair. She glowered at her pen as if it were Langus for a moment, stewing in unpleasant thoughts. But soon she shook her head to dismiss the horrible idea of Maribelle being hurt.

Lissa reached over to touch Maribelle’s free hand. Her wife looked up from kneading at her temples to look at her in question.

“Let's eat before we keel over."

Maribelle's face softened and her smile made Lissa's heart do backflips like it had every single time before. "That sounds marvelous, dear.”


	9. Chapter 9

Several of their twenty leads were already dead, Maribelle found. Though that certainly didn't rule them out - it was always possible to fake a death.

Robin thought there were still too many variables to go out hunting and accusing the leads they did have left. Not only would it damage Maribelle’s reputation by leagues it also left her exposed for another assassin.

No. The stanger would need to be baited and lured out. But it might take far too long to due so by Langus’ story. Their culprit had take weeks to present the idea of killing an official, and with that paitence it was unlikely they were the sort to go charging in to finish the job. Maybe Langus’ failure _would_ spur the stranger on, but Robin couldn't hedge on it.

A leaked story. A false trail. Follow another assassin back to base and... what then, root out a bandit stronghold with a dozen people? Call in for backup? That sort of operation would take days.

Or perhaps… Robin considered Maribelle over their meal. Was it too late to pretend the assassination had gone to plan? The city guard would not arrive for hours and none of the manor staff had had the chance to gossip with townsfolk yet.

It was best to seize the chance while the ball was still in their court. Robin stood up abruptly, knocking their chair to the floor and surprising Frederick and Chrom to either side of them.

“Maribelle! You need to die!”

The whole dining room fell silent save for the clatter of falling silverware.

" _I_ _BEG YOUR PARDON?!”_

-

The promise of a lighter sentence (and the menacing forms of Tharja and Frederick) easily persuaded Langus to give up his gang's signals and phrases they needed to use to assure them that Maribelle was dead.

“Was supposed to slip out when the maids found ‘er and set the manor in a panic,” Langus explained. “And bring her ring finger as proof.”

Gaius, who resembled Langus the most in build and hair color (though there would be no mistaking their faces for one another) , was put into a footman’s uniform. He would act as the false Langus until the trap was sprung - or, if Naga forbid, something went south before then. But it wouldn't come to that, Robin thought grimly at looked at a layout of the property.

In dawn’s poor light and rolling fog, Gaius would rendezvous with another gang member and then was to present the finger to the stranger. Following behind would be everyone else in full equipment.

Tharja would have to act quick with a mind muddling hex as it took far too long to create a spell to fully disguise Gaius with Langus’ face.

(“Unless you would rather I _took_ his face right off his skull to make the disguise.”

“P-please, have mercy. I've told you everything I know!”

Tharja cackled and while it caused Langus to sweat with terror, Robin rolled their eyes. She was enjoying her theatrics far too much.)

And with a prayer of luck, the plan went into motion. Heavy fog seeped around their shoulders and muffled their footsteps as they left the manor behind and over the wet ground of the hunting woods. Frederick also had had the foresight to order the Shepherds to pack their thick woolen cloaks before leaving the capital and all easily blended into the landscape.

Gaius, pretending to falter over the uneven ground, called hoarsely for Langus’ companion - a woman named Jolla and known for being about as sharp as a hammer.

“Jooooolllaaaa,” Gaius stopped to touch the trunk of a gnarled tree she was supposed to be at and spoke the code. “I got the chickens tended to!”

Silence answered Gaius and the party, crouched in weeds and tall grass, held their breath. But just as Gaius opened his mouth to call again, a reedy voice spoke up from behind the tree.

“Good. We needed the eggs.”

Tharja spun on her heel and thrust her splayed fingers out in the direction the voice came from. From the tight smile she gave shortly after, Robin knew she had hit her mark.

A woman scratching at her forehead stepped around to look directly at Gaius and then squinted at him.

“Ready?” Gaius asked, and Jolla nodded after a long pause.

Her chin jerked to the east and she started walking. “Remind me to get some eyepieces - got that blurry vision again.”

“Right o,” the pretend Langus said and fell in step behind her.

Silently, the Shepherds crept after.


	10. Chapter 10

Gaius played up his part well, even with Jolla befuddled, as she unwittingly lead him and the Shepherds straight for the bandits’ hideaway.

Rather, their temporary one that was meant to be struck down at a moment's notice. Jolla bragged to who she thought was Langus about a minor noble whose home had been struck recently and the riches gained.

"With that prissy magistrate gone, we can go for the big guys again,” Jolla laughed and spat a glob to the side. “Boss man even invited that weirdo down to collect the finger, he knew you'd get it done.”

Gaius laughed alongside her and after an observation on the state of neighboring Plegia’s own criminal underbelly being a potential rival, the two sang a poor rendition of “Maids in the Field” which was much more vulgar than the version Robin knew of.

An hour’s trek later and the sea of fog was burning away enough for the Shepherds to see tendrils of smoke over the treetops. The bandits’ camp. Hand signals were made and the Shepherds began to close the distance between themselves and Gaius. Who in turn quickly stepped behind Jolla, clapped a hand over her mouth, and wrenched one arm behind her back.

Tharja’s hex ended that moment and Jolla realized she'd been had. Within moments, the bandit thrashed in Gaius’ grip enough to get a hold of her boot knife. The struggle for the knife was a short lived one and Gaius knocked the blade from her hand to send it spinning into the air and vanish in the tall grass.

And as Maribelle stepped from the fog like an angry apparition, the Shepherds following soon after, Jolla froze and surrendered.

“Good work, Gaius,” Chrom said once Jolla had been properly gagged and tied up. “I'm impressed. You're quite the actor when you want to be.”

Gaius grinned to the exalt and waved his hand dismissively. “Aw stop, you’re makin’ me blush, Blue.”

“It's true! The accent, the posture, the song. ...If I may ask, where  _ did _ you learn those lyrics?”

Frederick cleared his throat as Gaius opened his mouth. “Pardon my interjection, milord. I believe our next step is to scout out the camp?”

-

Jolla, burned as she was by leading the enemy directly to camp, refused to give up any secrets and was left behind with Maribelle’s guards.

Hidden away to observe the gang, Robin noted the camp itself was remarkably well set up. From under a bush, they watched various people emerge from their tents and begin morning duties. It had the efficiency of a war camp to go up or down quickly but none of the bulk that would slow transportation. The lay out also meant there might be veterans among the bandits.

With it such an early hour there was no guarantee they would have an accurate count of the enemy, though Robin counted eight and at least four more still in their tents. They watched as a bandit, presumably the farrier, check the feet of six horses and calculated.

An estimated twelve bandits to the nine of them - eleven if Robin included the two guards. But they were as green as grass and best suited as an emergency guard and escape for the others.

The sharp tap of the farrier’s hammer pulled Robin’s attention away from the tents and guessing which one held the gang’s leader. They watched as practiced hands shaped a horse’s shoe and suddenly felt… off kilter.

A clanging hammer from a memory of a memory. The roar of a forge and uncomfortable heat on their cheek.

It was immediately washed away by the cold sweat of terror and Robin stared blankly at the ground, fingertips digging molding leaves. A leftover memory from Grima? After all these years?

Robin slowly eased themself out from under the brush to return to the others, mind fluttering about like a pegasi that just learned to fly. While the (memory? Robin hesitated to call it that) was very much unlike years ago, when Grima’s memories seeped into their skull like molten steel, they still felt the familiar tremor return to their hands.

Despite the shock, Robin carefully made their way back to the other Shepherds to begin their surprise attack. Cripple any escape attempts, collapse the tents, and lure the enemy into a bottleneck.

But as Robin reached the top of the hill separating the thieves from the Shepherds, a cry rose up from behind them within the bandits’ camp.

"To arms! To arms!”

Robin burst into a dash to regroup and noted with relief as they saw Stahl’s cloak flutter to their right as he raced back as well.

As the others came into view, weapons drawn and packed tightly around Chrom and Maribelle, Robin flung an arm out to point to the south.

"Horses! We must cut them off!"


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i imagine tome users use their spells like transmutation in fma. you Can cast it without a tome, but it would take time you don't have to write out the circles and symbols each time

At some point later on, Robin surmised they had been spotted by another bandit either on patrol or sent to scout for Jolla and Langus for being late.

But the damage was done. With their cover blown, there would only be minutes before the bandits were on horseback and scattered - or worse, decided to fall upon them. It was only hope that Maribelle, Chrom, or Lissa had not been spotted. Regardless, the Shepherds raced quickly in triangle formation for the southern end of the camp where the land was dry and bramble thin, perfect for an exit for cart and horse.

And while their own need for stealth meant they had left their own mounts behind at the manor, Robin meant to use the boggy terrain to their advantage. Already a bandit wielding an axe - Robin could not see the quality of the axe from this distance but noted the short handle of a throwing axe - had broken rank and charged ahead of his companions right at the forward guard of Sully and Frederick.

Only to have his horse stumble in thick mud. The dry ground had ended much sooner than the bandit had anticipated. But while he hadn't been thrown from his horse, Robin smirked and held up their hand alongside Ricken. Easy pickings.

Tomes open to attack spell pages - using elthunder and arcwind respectively - arcane circles shone brightly in the vanishing fog. The runes and foci circled lazily around the two even as the air hummed with gathering power as they focused on the slowly approaching target. Ever the talented, Ricken’s foci twitched quickly into place when he made his mark and abruptly wind slammed against Robin’s back. Likewise, energy had built and filled Robin as though they had shuffled along a carpet in stockings and it crackled up their spine and down their arms.

Where the trick for Ricken was to call wind and shape it - with dizzying precision at that - into a series of sharp slicing blows, Robin had to adjust the air around their target to create a beacon. And a heartbeat after Ricken’s powerful blows Robin released the energy. It leapt from Robin’s core, into the air, and struck down. Hard.

The bandit fell limp in the saddle and his horse, in an absolute panicked frenzy, bucked itself out of the mud and back into the perceived safety of camp. In turn, the horse set off what could have been a comical set of events as it bowled into bandit and horses alike in its mad escape. And gave the Shepherds the badly needed advantage to cross the bog and meet the bandits on equal footing.

In turn, a few bandits ducked into the bramble to escape the onslaught of magic. Tharja tsk’d as her own blood curdling spells sapped away the life of blackberries instead when her marks missed among the thorns.

But like a well wound clock, the Shepherds made a quick job of pinning and disarming the under prepared bandits. As Robin stepped over a broken wagon axle Robin could see up close the disregard spoiled thieves had for their weapons and tools. Why bother when another manor or armory was only a stop away?

Their leader, a grizzled man by the name of Amol, dropped his lance (finely made it seemed to be more of a decorative piece to be hung on a mantle) to the grass and surrendered to Maribelle. Almost as if it had been timed, the fog at last receded and morning light glinted off her staff. He spat at her boots.

“ _Disgusting_ ,” she spat back with venom rather than phlegm.

“Where is the one who hired you?” Chrom stepped forward and the man’s eyes widened in recognition. If not at Chrom’s face then at the falchion at his waist.

Amol gaped and straightened as best he could from his knees - Robin suspected they has guessed correctly at an old soldier in the ranks. “You… but she said she wanted the magistrate dead. Not _you_!”

Chrom’s brow furrowed, but before he could ask the man to clarify a bloodied Sully returned to the others with someone poorly trying to hide their face as they were drug along like a petulant child. Tall and thin, they half wore a dark cloak meant to cover the finery they wore beneath.

“Two got away but this one didn't know the back of a horse from its front,” Sully scoffed and shoved her catch forwards.

“You failed me,” the cloak fell, abandoned as the stranger revealed herself in defeat. Clearly a noble, her yellow hair fell down her shoulders in waves and she pointed accusingly at Amol. “You couldn't even have one lousy, pompous, barn raised, snitching, lying _floo-_ ”

A clap filled the air and the stranger’s head snapped to the side from the force of Lissa’s slap. She stumbled, clutching at her face.

“ _Don't you talk like that about her ever again!_ ” Lissa thundered even as Frederick pulled her back from striking the woman again.

“Grima take your souls!” the woman cursed back, spittle flying.

 _Too late for that_ , Robin thought dryly.

-

The fog cleared and Maribelle’s personal guards left on horseback to bring word to the city watch (who must have long since arrived, Robin judged by the sun's position) of what had transpired. As they waited, the bandits were herded and sat back to their camp center at await arrest. Three dead. Two severely injured - and grudgingly tended to by Maribelle and Lissa.

Sully herself had gotten grazed along her cheek by a wild dagger swing. The woman - Yliril, the noblewoman who had dealt in arms sales during the wars and lost her entire estate in recompense - had managed to get a lucky blow on her when Sully had plucked her from the saddle. Robin stepped away to examine their handiwork at stitching the worst together.

“Gettin’ better!” Sully crowed approvingly after running her fingers over the sealed cut. Not perfect, but better than leaving it to bleed. “Thanks, bud.”

“Anytime.”

A jaunty salute later and Sully dismissed herself to resume guard over the bandits and Robin glanced over to Chrom and Frederick - their weapons drawn as they too stood guard over Amol. Yliril, meanwhile, was kept on the opposite side of the bandits under Ricken’s careful eye. Robin frowned. While Ricken was talented and had proved himself over and over in the wars, he was still only one person and Robin stepped forwards to assist as guard.

Yliril, arms crossed and sitting on a chopping block, had refused to answer any questions beyond revealing her name and stubbornly ignored Robin’s approach. But Robin, so focused on her, didn't notice they had bumped shoulders with someone else.

“Pardon me, I wasn't- .. _Kellam?!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry. couldn't resist.


	12. Chapter 12

Much to the embarrassing relief of everyone, Kellam had  _ not _ been along with them since leaving the capital. His brother’s family, displaced by the war, had come to reclaim their farmland and Kellam had come down to assist in the rebuild. Over the last two days the bandits’ campfires had alerted the soldier to their presence and Kellam had sought to scout the place out.

“Only to find all of you doing the work for me, so I joined in the fight,” Kellam smiled. “It will give everyone some peace knowing some of them have been arrested.”

-

“One rat's nest kicked over and dozens more to go,” Maribelle observed tightly once Yliril and her bandits were taken away under escort. While she had never expected her duties to be easy or without consequences but that didn't mean she  _ enjoyed _ seeing depravity. Worry aside, she tilted her chin up when Yliril, bound by hands and feet, was carted past herself and Lissa. The former noble would be brought back to the courts and a formal investigation opened up - she still had funds to hire Amol’s gang and that could mean several unpleasant scenarios.

Lissa’s hand touched her shoulder and Maribelle looked over, abruptly realizing she had been furiously twisting her mare’s reins tightly in her hands. The wagon had turned and the two women could not continue their icy staring match. Instead, Lissa’s own eyes peered at her.

“You okay, Mari?”

She felt tension begin to slide away with Lissa’s concern. “As well as can be expected, darling. I am only sorry to have put you in danger and put our friend’s own plans on hold for my sake.”

“Aww, Maribelle, you don't have to worry about that! I've got your back a hundred times over and so does everyone else!” Lissa leaned forward in her own saddle to snag her wife in a crushing hug and Maribelle blushed like a newlywed before returning it.

“Thank you, my love.”

-

Frederick politely looked away from Lissa and Maribelle embrace to watch the city guards and thieves reach the crest of a hill and begin the descent out of sight. Good riddance. 

But it didn't mean things were over - far from it. Frederick did not feel that Chrom and Lissa (and now Maribelle) were properly protected and vigilance could only go so far if you were well equipped to deal with potential fallout. He also knew Chrom would insist on continuing the journey for Robin’s sake. Ultimately the decision lay with his beloved and the others’ next choice of action, but Frederick had no intention of putting lives at risk by keeping his concerns to himself

He turned towards where Robin was watching city guards inventory and take down the bandit camp. A captain stood by as well, and Frederick guessed the two were exchanging information from what he overheard.

“-three other camps like this. All picking up and moving so no one finds their day to day operations.”

“My teams and I have been scouting the land around settlements but… too few officers, too much land.”

Robin nodded. “I'll have to speak with Mari- er, the magistrate for her decision, but I would hazard a guess she could lease pegasi units to aid in scouting for the home base.”

“That would be very much appreciated,” the captain said. “I will be sure to forward any information we gather to you as well. With their leader on trial, I imagine it will make things much more easier for the investigation.”

The captain looked up as she saw Frederick in her peripheral and Robin followed her gaze and briefly grinned in greeting as the two respective captains made introductions.

“We'll try and have guards return to the burglared manors for signs of them being used as camps as well. There are still several that have not been reclaimed by the owners and I don't have the resources to track each one down.”

The captain’s story was uncomfortably a common one - far too many local city guards stretched thin to address bandits and worse. And the reverse… when commoners cane to Chrom’s court to plead for help from law enforcement who had seized the power and control of a town. Frederick glanced at Robin to find them peering right back at him.

Eventually they bade goodbye to the captain and her officers - the captain would be arriving back at Maribelle’s manor personally to debrief within the next day - to rejoin the Shepherds for the trek back.

Frederick noted with pleasure that Kellam had joined them for the time being, his talents were incredibly useful and Kellam had proved to be one of his most reliable men. His contribution in assisting guarding would not go unnoticed.

The trek back also gave Frederick the opportunity to speak with Robin before they were all inevitably sat down to discuss what next. With a careful eye on Chrom and Lissa, Frederick set his pace to match Robin’s.

“My dear.”

“My dear,” Robin’s lips curled into a smile but he saw the indecision in their wrinkled brow.

“You're torn on whether to aid the captain and Maribelle with the investigation or if you should continue on.” Robin always did the right thing, he knew, but it was unpleasant to have to choose like this. Especially when the trail for their mother was already as cold as it was.

“Yes,” Robin admitted with a tight sigh - one they would not share with even Chrom. “Perhaps it was a blessing that Morgan ran ahead. She might be able to locate something.”

A blessing, but a bitter one. Robin would not be able to see for themself for a long while - if ever. Or worse yet, Morgan might be drawn into trouble. Robin and Frederick shared a fretful silence as the worst ran through both of their minds. 

Frederick sighed as well. “Even if the Shepherds join the cause to root out the benefactor behind Maribelle’s troubles, I worry our own resources would run dry. Unless we should be so lucky to find the fiend by tomorrow-”

“-it also sends a message that the exalt would choose to personally assist Themis. Even if Maribelle is married to the princess.” Robin finished Frederick’s thought.

The two sighed in unison.

“...but I understand this trip was hardly going to bear fruit.” Robin said with a sad smile. “After all these years a few more weeks should hardly make a difference.”

Frederick frowned. It was rare he thought of things in terms of  _ fairness _ but quite frankly… it wasn't fair.

“The fiends will be brought to swift justice,” Frederick declared with some heat that made Robin look up at him in surprise. “For the halidom’s sake… and for your own.”

“...Aw, Freddybear.” Robin said fondly, knowing they were out of earshot to use the rather private nickname. “You're dashing when you're terrifying.”


	13. Chapter 13

Robin knew they should follow suit with everyone else and sleep, but even tucked away in the soft mattress - Frederick lightly dozing beside them - they couldn't fall into the comfort of turning off for a few hours.

Morgan was at the front of their mind, away with Owain on the hunt for his grandmother. Would anyone know who Morgan was? As far as general society was concerned, Morgan was a cousin of the grand tactician Robin. And that would be the only information given out should anyone bother to snoop around. The ever present threat of lurking bandits, scheming nobles, and the environment itself- Robin closed their eyes. They were getting as bad as Frederick.

They stared up at the painted ceiling to trace patterns with their eyes. It was late afternoon by their estimate - a time when they could be pouring over Maribelle’s library to research the nobles of Themis more thoroughly that what they knew from court. It was the time to find threads and links to Yliril and any friends or family willing to assist her. Any merchants who were cut deep by the end to be any arms smuggling. Any-

“Robin,” Frederick’s voice broke smoothly into Robin’s increasingly frantic state of mind. “Your mind is so abuzz I feel I can almost hear it.”

“Sorry,” abruptly realizing, Robin stilled their feet from rubbing against each other and disturbing Frederick’s rest. A bad habit when they were restless. “Thinking.”

“I should sprout wings and fly the day you do not,” Frederick yawned but his tone was fond and warm with sleep. His hand clasped with Robin’s beneath the blankets emblazoned with the Themis symbol and Maribelle’s family crest. “Please rest. A sound sleep will do you leagues good.”

Robin squeezed his hand in return, feeling comfort in the calluses and long fingers.

“Morgan will be safe,” he continued, possibly to assure himself as much as Robin. “He is your child after all. Bright and steadfast.”

In the quiet of the afternoon, Robin and Frederick touched foreheads. “And yours. You've trained her well.”

Or at least, another Frederick and Robin had. In a future that no longer existed. Abruptly Robin felt the weariness surge into their bones like a tide that had been held back for so long and their eyelids slid closed.

Briefly they felt Frederick kiss their knuckles and then he too resumed the light sleep he had been drifting towards.

-

Robin guessed this was the fourth time they had woken up in the night. Their toes curled in the thick wool of the rug laid out in the center of their guest room and through the window they watched as the moon slowly inched its way west. Stressful but forgettable dreams had woken them up and Robin didn't care to try to reach for them. They had far more important things to try and recall.

Frederick lie asleep on the bed, but Robin wanted to wake him and tell him about the memory. If it really was that. But it was strange, how terrified they were of a single sensation - and barely more than that, it was the echo of a sound and part of the layout of a forge. Hardly anything substantial but it was a _memory._  A taste of a life Robin had long accepted was no longer there, and here it was, still tempting them to investigate.

They pulled the robe closer around their shoulders to ward away the chill of the night.  But curiosity bubbled to the surface again and Robin wondered what had caused the memory to return; Robin had heard farriers work before, seen camps, even crawled under more than a few bushes. Why now? Was it the active searching or had time begun to mend what had been burned?

“Robin,” came Frederick’s voice. Robin turned. “Have you had a nightmare?”

“No. At least I don't believe so.” Relief washed over Robin - they had kept things secret before and it had only hurt.  They would not make that mistake again. “Frederick... I’m fairly certain I’ve remembered something.”

They locked eyes with their husband and Robin watched as the sleep and concern left Frederick’s face to be replaced with surprise and determination. From there the explanation rushed out of Robin as they fought eagerness and excitement to share their memory and worries to Frederick.

In the end, they sat together on the mattress, knees bumping. Robin’s thumb passed over the back of their own hand where the mark of the Grimleal had once been. Now, nothing but a freckle remained.

“...I am elated, Robin. But I agree, it's quite the conundrum,” Frederick said while rubbing his jaw. Even in the moonlight Robin could see the shadow of hair but did not tease him about growing a beard as routine.

“A part of me feels as if I should dance and another to be sick to my stomach.” It couldn't be Grima, it _couldn't._ Frederick glanced up sharply and Robin shook their head, they wouldn't be sick here on the bed. Maybe.

“Would it be best to seek out Lady Tiki? Her insight would be best to put your fears to rest.” And his own. Frederick’s heart ached at the prospect of losing Robin again.

They nodded, mind shuffling through a timeline on how to deal with this assassination business, their original search, and now this on top of things. The usual rush of organizing and keeping on their toes wasn't there this time, not when Grima could be making a return.

“I will send a letter. Tiki travels often, but Say’ri might know where she is.” Another month’s worth of delay.

Robin felt Frederick’s hand on their back and sighed. It was a comforting weight.

“Come and rest, Robin. I am rather fond of my Wary title, and it would pain me to have it forced upon you like this.”

Robin answered with a smile and eye roll but crawled back under the blankets with him. Frederick drew Robin close and they nestled against his broad chest. “In daylight and with fresh eyes, we will see these next battles through. ...Together.”

“Thank you, Frederick.” And Robin meant it. A burden shared was a burden halved indeed, and they felt the old gnawing feeling of helplessness fade away, at least for now.

And to the relief of them both, Robin dropped off into sleep for the rest of the night.


	14. Chapter 14

“Thank you, Captain Min, your report is greatly appreciated. I will be visiting Southtown myself by tomorrow to bring forth my own reports and copies along with your men.”

The captain bowed to Maribelle and turned to bark instructions to the two guards she had brought with her. While Maribelle and her office were going to pour over the case files regarding Yliril’s previous estate and who all were involved, the formal investigation would be overseen by a Ylisstol judge due to Maribelle’s undoubtedly biased opinion. Once compiled, the Southtown guard would bring the detained, Maribelle, and all interrogations and previous court documents before the royal officers for investigation and judgement.

And ultimately, out of the Shepherds’ hands for the time being.

 _Unless Chrom or Lissa spearhead a vengeance filled search of the countryside_ , Robin thought as they watched the two discuss something intently together - along with the pointedly ignored senator’s secretary who offered their occasional bit of protest. Not that Robin blamed either of them, they certainly wanted to find the one who had funded the assassination attempt and bring them to justice for what they had tried to do to their friend.

Guilt gnawed at Robin’s insides though; with the case going to a higher court, they were free to resume their search for the time being. It was bittersweet, but Robin resolved to spend the day with Maribelle in the court libraries to aid her rather than stew in guilt. Their shoes clacked on the manor’s polished hardwood floors and they made their way to Maribelle who was giving stiff greetings to the Southtown guards.

"Robin! Good morning. May I introduce you to Rinnel and Vans.” The two bowed and Robin returned it. “This is Robin, Exalt Chrom’s trusted adviser and tactician.”

“Good morning,” Robin hid an embarrassed face as the two guards’ eyes suddenly peered very intently at them. “I understand you'll be assisting with the preliminary investigation?”

"Dreadfully boring when it comes to the nitty gritty,” Maribelle didn't wait for the two to answer and spun on her heel towards the staircase that lead to the second floor and up to the archives. Robin followed and after a moment so did the guards. “Every scrap we can find and quite a lot of it. That woman lost her property and inheritance so the distribution will be tedious and extensively documented down to the acre.”

“And you oversaw all that?”

"Some,” sniffed Maribelle. “Once I'd passed my judgement, I oversaw half of the estate being turned into farmland for the rebuilding efforts. The rest was for the vultures and their lawyers to pick over.”

An attendant by the doorway bowed and pushed the two thick wooden doors open to the antechamber of the conjoined archives and library. During the manor’s restoration, Mariel had suggested to Maribelle that a dry room would be kinder to her future years of archives and so Maribelle had constructed her massive library to reflect just that. And as the next doors opened, Robin’s eyes lit up at the wealth of knowledge placed upon the floor to ceiling high cases. They had visited several times before, but each time was at delight.

"Right then,” Maribelle declared, every inch of her a mademoiselle ready to lead the charge. “Onwards!”

-

It was exactly as Maribelle had told them: long and tedious work. The transcriptions of court hearings could be anywhere from a finger’s width to as thick as one of Robin’s arms. Not to mention evidence, testimony, and all the rigmarole involved in such a lengthy case. After an hour Robin’s head began to spin from the half familiar legalism - even two years in the capitol had not prepared them for this!

The day crawled. Maribelle threw herself headfirst into the fray and with each sweep of an aisle, brought another binder of deeds and distributions of wealth.  Though Robin could have read up on the case all day, they had to skim and missed sections in part of others’ contributions in assisting. Ricken would read the part eight to Robin’s seven and so forth. But from what they gathered, after the trial, Yliril had managed to squirrel a portion of her inheritance to a relative - a cousin in a neighboring city - while the rest had been broken down to be given to support the resettlement efforts following the war. Meanwhile, while the land had been under dispute as far as the archives last reported, Robin could easily fathom the bits had been repurchased by the family. It was curious, that if the cousin was indeed the onr supporting Yliril, she had not been disowned for her aiding enemy and home alike for profit. The implications left a sour taste in Robin’s mouth and they shut a volume of property boundary maps shut.

“Maribelle,” Robin said when they brought the volume over to be sorted into one of the stacks the poor guards were in charge of overseeing. “Might I accompany you to Southtown tomorrow? Both as a friend and… for selfish reasons.”

Maribelle tossed her ringlets over her shoulder in a huff as she straightened up, looking every inch a stern magistrate. But her eyes softened a hair and she smiled. “Of course, Robin, why else would I suggest going to Southtown myself if not to get you there?”

Robin’s eyebrows flew up and Maribelle hid a chuckle behind her gloved hand. “It would be far too easy to have the documents brought to the city without my overseeing and while I _do_ wish to see that woman behind bars… I value our friendship much more, Robin, and all the effort you've put into assisting me. I could hardly stand to delay you a day longer.”

“Maribelle, I can't thank you enough-”

"I'll take you thanks as is proper,” Maribelle sniffed and Robin caught a glimpse of the woman they knew when they first met her. “But it is not needed - you've played a large part in capturing those scoundrels and it was quite frankly _my_ head they were after. This is _my_ apology to _you_ for dragging not only yourself into this dreadful business but everyone else.”

For a moment Robin blinked owlishly at her, perplexed at how they'd gone so roundabout on thanks and apologies, then threw their head back to laugh. Which in turn stunned Maribelle until they waved the giggles away.

"Here we are, apologizing and thanking one another like this… you're a dear friend, Maribelle. Thank you.”

She tsk’d, pleased but cheeks pink with embarrassment. “And thank you for being a friend as well, Robin. Now hush, this is a _library_ after all.”

-

The next day the Shepherds all gathered closely around Maribelle’s carriage in escort from her manor to Southtown’s gates. While Maribelle herself road her trust mare, the carriage was stocked full of documentation as asked by the captain of the guard; the guards Rinnel and Vans were also squeezed in, if rather uncomfortably, amongst the folders, ledgers, and crates.

Yesterday Frederick had made his concerns and plans made apparent to Chrom and the rest of the Shepherds and they would remain together as acting guard even when on the hunt for clues to Robin’s search. With Maribelle and potentially Chrom, and Lissa’s lives up for target there would be absolutely no splitting up for the foreseeable future.

That morning Frederick had also (with assistance from Robin) laid out a thorough plan should anyone become separated or were attacked by anyone from pickpockets to a master assassin. With the town map spread out before them all on the dining table, Frederick even performed a few drills with Gaius on _how_ to notice and dispatch any “light fingered hooligans.”

"Glad I never ran into the big guy when I was still small time,” Gaius griped as he wrung out his fingers. He looked up to Frederick who had fallen back to speak with Stahl and Sully from his earlier scouting. “If you don't do that right you could pop someone's hand off!”

“If you're referring to the move I performed earlier I do apologize.” Frederick said. “But I feel a slapped wrist is quite the apt punishment for theft.”

Robin caught the hint of a wry grin on Frederick’s lips as he and Gaius spoke of the finer points of quickly weaseling purses from pockets and nerves that would just as swiftly force the would-be scoundrel to let go. In the end, they had to feel a measure of pity for Gaius.

"Marvelous, Gaius! I'll expect you promptly at the next scheduled Fanatical Fitness hour. And perhaps a morning warm up routine with myself and the others as well?”

Frederick’s wry grin had turned sharp and dangerous as the former criminal had sprung the knight’s trap. There was _always_ room for improvement after all. Robin glanced at Gaius and saw him sweating up enough to rival the fog from yesterday.

With a forced smile, Gaius managed, “...right. Bright and early."


	15. Chapter 15

Southtown had put up a wall since the wars began, Robin saw as the Shepherds drew close; and while they were hardly the gleaming stone walls of Ylisstol, the timber was still fresh and the line to enter the city long. Robin couldn't help but feel a pang of sorrow for the townsfolk who had to barricade themselves in to feel a measure of safety - and that it was Robin’s existence that had fueled such terror. The procession came to a stop at the end of the line and Vans managed to squirm his way out from the carriage’s miniature avalanche of documents to jog ahead and speak with the guard on duty to speed up their passing through.

“I thought you would have revealed yourself to bypass the whole thing entirely,” Robin said to Chrom while the carriage was ushered past the waiting line of merchants and travelers towards the gate entrance.

“Even I'm not above a bit of protocol when it's required,” Chrom said with a smile that surprised Robin. Their friend had certainly grown into his role as prince and Exalt since they had first met. “...though it really is taking quite some time.”

“You almost sounded wise until that last part, Your Majesty,” Robin grinned back and they had to wonder much they themself had changed over the course of the wars. Though Robin did have to admit that perhaps the wars had defined them since they had been such a blank slate.

“Wise? Chrom? I _must_ be hearing things,” teased Lissa as she mimed cleaning her ear out with a finger. “This morning he was walking around with his slippers on the wrong feet!”

Robin and Lissa shared a laugh while Chrom looked ahead to hide his reddening cheeks. “He didn't even notice until Freddy pointed it out!”

" _T_ _hank_ you, Lissa, for that reminder,” Chrom groaned. But the giggles remained even when they finally all passed into the city - Chrom waved his thanks to the gate guards.

It wasn't the same section of the city that Robin had proved their worth and helped defeat bandits with Chrom, Lissa, and Frederick years before; but they still felt the buzz of familiarity in the red tiled roofs and pale cobblestone as Walker followed the Shepherds through the city streets.

Shops and trades eventually thinned out to homes the farther they went into the city which in turn when began to be finer and taller - rich merchants and nobles by Robin’s recollection of a map. They wondered if somewhere Yliril had other family that lived here if they didn't have their own manor and property out on the rolling plains. Perhaps another city? Though Southtown was the largest and arguably finest in Themis.

Robin’s pondering was put to rest as the Shepherds arrived at the city garrison. Chrom and Maribelle, followed loyally by Frederick, were invited into Captain Min’s office for debriefing. Meanwhile the remaining Shepherds were left awkwardly standing around after unloading the crates of paper and booklets. Soon though, they were joined by three others of the captain’s division and was soon caught up asking about blacksmiths and weapon makers in the city. An amicable lot, the guards helpfully noted five locations (including the guards’ own personal supplier) that they knew of on Robin’s map - though they did admit that with the influx of people in the last year they could not know everyone with a forge.

“This is incredibly helpful, thank you,” Robin thanked a lieutenant. With the names and locations of five practicing smiths, two more retired, and a weapon’s shop, Robin had more leads than they'd have dared wish for.

The timing couldn't have been any more perfect either. As they rolled up the city map, the captain’s door opened and Maribelle, Chrom, and Frederick exited - Maribelle with a face that seemed to barely restrain a torrent of insults. She marched stiffly out of the garrison without a backwards glance and soon Lissa followed after with a concerned look. Chrom, after the necessary formalities, bade goodbye to the captain and her crew to usher his Shepherds out. From his explanation, now that the documents and any other relevant information had been turned over, they were all free to go about their business until Maribelle would be summoned for the indictment.

“I suppose it's lucky the cell block isn't next door,” Maribelle said, still bristling from whatever the captain had said to her as the Shepherds all exited out of the garrison’s grounds. “For Miss Yliril that is.”

“Lady Maribelle, perhaps it would be best to air grievances once we are _out_ of earshot of law enforcement,” Frederick quickly interjected even as Robin turned to gape at Maribelle.

“What in the world happened in there?” Lissa demanded.

Behind Maribelle, Chrom and Frederick exchanged a glance; the two knew well enough to keep their version of the story to themselves until Maribelle’s heels could cool.

“Absolutely ludicrous! I've worked with the captain and her commander for years and when I ask to speak with the fiend, I'm turned down just as quickly as- as-!” Maribelle managed to compose herself though it seemed as tenuous hold as gripping a ledge by your fingernails.

Robin made a noise of understanding. She'd been politely but firmly refused to see Yliril due to regulations. That and the worry that either would physically lash out at the other. Though Robin highly doubted Maribelle would, it appeared she wasn't as calm about the assassination attempt as she'd pretended to be.

“You'll have plenty of time to glare at her in court,” Robin offered. “And she won't know your location - maybe it'll keep her on here toes until then.”

It did little to soothe Maribelle, but eventually she allowed herself to be pulled back into the mingling  conversations the Shepherds had on their way to the Downy Feathers Inn. A well loved and tended to inn by the looks of it, the paint was fresh on the sign.

Robin had arranged for their rooms at the Downy Feathers weeks ago; and in spite of the late arrival, the inn keeper greeted them all warmly and had kept their rooms available.

“With that storm the other night I _knew_ there would be delays,” she chatted in an  amiable tone despite - or maybe not realizing - the gathered royalty. “Call for Perrin and he'll fill your bathtubs right quick!”

The Shepherds gave their thanks and coin, paid for by the Exalt himself even over the protesting, and dispersed to their temporary rooms.

“First Maribelle’s manor now and inn, I feel absolutely spoiled,” Robin had flopped backwards onto the mattress and grinned up and Frederick as he stowed away his saddlebags.

“Indeed,” Frederick agreed and sat down beside Robin. “After years on the march I dare say this might be a journey in leisure. ...For the most part.”

Robin sat up with a grimace as they both mulled over what might happen in the coming days now that Yliril may have allies. They placed their hands on the broad expanse of Frederick’s back and began to dig in with their thumbs in tight circles. Soon enough a happy sigh and slight slump of Frederick’s shoulders  rewarded Robin for their efforts.

“Bandits and assassins aside, I believe I'll begin in a clockwise formation around the city.” Laid over a small dining table in the room was the map dotted with the various blacksmiths and traders Robin wanted to question. Starting with the nearest and go from there.”

Frederick made an agreeing noise but it was marred with a pleasurable tenor as Robin continued massaging away a knot. They grinned impishly behind his back.

“And from there, if I don't find any records, I'll move towards more general shops or weapons’ trainers.”

“Should a blacksmith be unable to recognize a rival’s brand, it is more unlikely a trainer shall, my dear.” Frederick warned gently.

A short sigh of acknowledgement. Robin knew it was best not to get their hopes up. But they teased back, “I shall have to rely on luck at that point, my dear,” and pinched their husband on his side.

Frederick twisted around with a half grin of his own and the two shared a kiss. “For luck.”


	16. Chapter 16

Robin closed their eyes against another wave of heat that washed over their face. A stringbean of an apprentice was billowing the forge behind master Prionna, and the unpleasant dry heat continued to beat down over them both on an already warm summer day. Even though the master’s forge was their third stop of the day, the time it was taking to pour over ledgers and brands was taking hours and they reminded themself to thank Frederick for packing their good boots.

The cracked Levin blade had been placed across the counter and Prionna’s massive hands flipped through another page to find the mark’s match. “The previous owner left all of their ledgers and proof of purchase behind when they left the city,” she had explained. “It had never felt right to throw them out - glad I never did.”

Robin glanced about the forge as they waited - most of the other Shepherds had elected to stay in the open air and farther away from the roaring forge’s heat, but others perused the master’s displays. Stahl himself held a fine sword in his hand and faux battled Sully to test the balance and length of it. They never clashed in fear of paying for damages, but tapped weapons lightly as Stahl went through the motions. Robin blinked and shook away another tickling sensation of… nostalgia? Deja vu? 

The “memory” from the bandits’ camp still had them on guard and Robin touched their pocket to feel the crinkled of a letter in reassurance. Tiki would know for certain. And yet… Robin could feel a hazy sort of familiarity that had refused to leave ever since stepping into the first blacksmith’s forge this morning.

A book slammed and Robin jerked away from looking at the array of tools upon the wall. Master Prionna shook her head sadly and another wave of bitter disappointment washed over the tactician.

“Not a single match,” she gestured at the ledger she had closed. “Brand ain't familiar to me neither and nothing I've ever put on my work.”

Robin inclined their head. “Thank you for investigating, Master Prionna,” and indeed they were thankful - even if they half wanted to seize the thick ledger and pour over it themself.

“For your time,” Chrom added. He put a pouch of coins on the counter before Robin could protest and the blacksmith bowed her own head in thanks. 

“Best of luck.”

After another round of thanks and goodbyes, the Shepherds filed out of the shop and back onto the narrow street to join the others. From Robin’s face, no one had to ask if the match had been found or not. 

“Right then,” they held up a list and marked through Master Prionna’s name. Six names - shops and masters alike - remained. As one, the Shepherds made for the next nearest stop, a weapons' shop called The Gilded Pommel.

It was going to be a _very_ long day.


	17. Chapter 17

With each dead end, Robin’s smile grew tighter and tighter despite their own constant internal admonishment. The sword’s mark was already a reach, that it might not even come from Thermis - or even Ylisse!, that it could have been doctored, or dozens of other reasons.

And even if the blade maker was found… then what?

Something- some _one_ nudged Robin’s arm in a friendly gesture and they looked away from the skies to Stahl’s concerned expression. In the heat of midday, the Shepherds had retired back to the inn to cool off and eat. Instead, Robin’s tea and list of places to stop (several crossed out and two additional “tips” from various smiths) had been left abandoned in their absent thinking.

The reflection of light from a glass jar reflected off of Stahl’s cheek. “You alright there, bud?”

“Yes. ...Frustrated.” Robin amended after realizing their tone was clipped. “But nothing I haven't expected.”

Stahl dipped his head briefly but didn't reply. He seemed to be waiting for someth- and almost abruptly Robin felt the need to share. Frederick and Chrom were both pulled into a tight huddle - being lectured by the senator’s assistant Trilla no doubt. Though “lecture” was stretching the definition by the way the short secretary's knees trembled in the face of Ylisse’s remaining royalty and Frederick’s deepening frown.

“This whole foolish trip was my idea and even if I've said I'm prepared for failure…” Robin gestured loosely to the Shepherds. “You're all my family. Failure cost lives for so long and now I can't bear the idea of not turning up so much as a scrap of information! It's driving me up the wall that all this might be for _nothing_.”

A part of Robin felt ashamed to be blurting out their worries on the patio of a well established inn. In public. But Stahl didn't seem to care and Robin hoped that they could share that seemingly absent-mindedness Stahl put on now and again.

Just when Robin put a hand to their face they felt a hand land on their shoulder. Stahl gave it a light squeeze and said to Robin’s embarrassed expression, “It's okay.”

At Robin's questioning look he shrugged a shoulder and elaborated. “I guess I mean that we're all here to support you cause you're our family too _,_ Robin. And it's okay to be angry about something this personal.”

Logic told Robin that it was okay and that frustration was an expected emotion with a journey such as this. But until Stahl spoke, Robin has still felt the crushing sense of hopelessness slowly coming down upon them. Now, while they still felt that anger simmer in the hot afternoon, they felt… relief. The gnawing idea of failure was dulled.

For now at least. Robin smiled at Stahl.

“...Thank you, Stahl.”

“Everyone needs validation now and again, right?” Stahl sipped his drink with a grin of his own. “That and you looked like you were turning into a beet from the stress.”

“ _Thank you_ , _Stahl.”_

-

The next two stops turned up nothing either. Not even a name to add to the list that grew shorter and shorter with each stop.

A bell jingled overhead to announce the Shepherds’ presence as they poured into the tiny shop. Ricken, forced to stand only inches behind Robin from the amount of people, bumped against their back when they came to a sudden stop at the counter. He peered around them to see a jolly fellow pulling at his beard in bemusement.

“What can I do you for, folks?”

Ricken shifted back again to avoid Robin's elbow when they pulled the old levin blade from their waist to place it carefully on the smooth surface. Broken or not, Ricken could still sense the fragments of spellwork that allowed a user to use it as a conductor instead of a prewritten tome’s page. But the blade didn't hum with its expected energy and merely… burned. Like a dying candle’s flame.

While Robin made introductions with the storekeeper and explained _why_ his shop now had ten well armored people in it, Ricken’s eyes wandered. Compared to the other shops they had visited, this store, Helavad’s Wares, was much more… personalized. It was a tradesman’s shop, not a store. Weapons lined the walls but instead of standard and simple axes and swords, these were the work of a master. A smithy’s personal collection for sale. With a price to match by the expression on Sully’s face.

Ricken turned his attention back to Robin, now flanked by Ser Frederick and Chr- His Majesty (despite the exalt’s protesting, Ricken knew it was proper to at least be in the habit of referring to him by his title instead of acting overly familiar. Friends of not). The shopkeep shook his head, and gently placed the blade back down from where he had need holding the hilt’s end up.

“Couple of youngsters came in here two days ago askin’ the same thing,” he said. “I told them I'd go over the books one more time - and I have - but I don't have a match for you.”

Robin, instead of looking like they had bitten a lemon, looked oddly relieved. Ricken could only assume it was due to the "youngsters" - Morgan and Owain most likely. At least the Shepherds were closer to the two and could compare notes if ever their paths crossed. A glance at Ser Frederick’s face confirmed it.

“But I do have a name for you,” the man said after Robin thanked him. “I'm not sure if those kids have talked to her yet, but-” he scrounged for paper, “-I get my goods from Master Wellards. She's got an eye for magic weapons and might know the brand.”

Something pickled at Ricken. Being able to identify magic weapons was one thing - and fairly obvious given how ostentatious they were in the field - but perhaps…

Robin stowed the blade away once more and replaced it with coins on the counter for the man’s time. And while the Shepherds filed out, Ricken peered over the ornate weapons one last time. Could it be possible to get a _feel_ for a smithy’s touch as well?

“Ricken, don't get left behind!” His Majesty called, and Ricken straightened up to realize his nose had nearly been pressed to an axe that looked more like a large serving knife.

“Coming!”

He trotted out with the intent to catch Robin’s ear. While he wasn't sure how useful the information would be, it certainly couldn't hurt to share it.


	18. Chapter 18

Ricken could barely keep himself from bouncing on his heels while he watched Robin turned the blade over in their hands. 

“Interesting…” Robin had said under their breath when Ricken had shared with them the idea. Their fingertips traced a hairline crack in the metal, as though seeing it for the first time. 

“It's not as ideal as a brand or name,” Ricken said in a rush. There were countless weapons to compare a feeling to, but it was  _ something.  _ “But if the brand was exclusive or for a business that closed…” 

“Then there would still be the blacksmith’s personal touch!” Robin beamed, finishing Ricken’s thought. 

His hat nearly fell over his eyes - again - from how furiously he nodded. While the search still all depended on the smithy being alive, there was still hope of finding them. They still held a fingerprint that could someday be traced even if the names were exhausted.

Ser Frederick’s hand clapped against Ricken’s back and he prided himself in not stumbling forward. “Excellent sleuthing, Ricken. I cannot express how much this means to our goal.”

Ricken caught a flick of Ser Frederick’s eyes towards his spouse that  told Ricken he clearly meant how much it meant to  _ Robin _ , personally. Ricken felt his own smile practically reach his ears.

But, he had to be modest and ducked his head to scratch behind his ear as he felt the rush of praise roll over him. “I'm glad I could help - even if it's just a little.”

“It helps a great deal,” Robin put the blade back down across their knees. Their eyes crinkled from a true blue smile. “Thank you.”

-

Daylight would end soon, and Robin watched sign by sign switch to close and lights douse as they and the Shepherds returned once more to the Downy Feathers. With such little light left they tucked away the list of names away into a pocket; there was only one name now and Robin ignored the looming sense of a lost trail in favor of focusing on the sensation of the Levin blade at their hip. Working with weapons meant you had to think of it as an extension of yourself and it was the same when using magical weapons, but Robin had never given much thought of the handwriting - so to speak - that was put into the spellwork.

Tomes were becoming printed more and more these days, all with their own unique properties depending on how thick or thin the ink had been layered on, but at some point the etchings had been done by someone. That same fingerprint could not be replicated in forges across the world - and now Robin reached as if they were opening themself to cast through the blade once more to memorize its handiwork.

Only to nearly stumble on a cobblestone. Robin’s eyes flew open as they felt the horrible lurching sensation before realizing that their boot had caught on the uneven stone. But before they could smack face first onto the road, someone seized the back of their coat and pulled back.

Teetering on their heels, Robin caught a Chrom’s fond smile. “I see you've grown fond of me pulling you from the ground.”

“Ha ha,” Robin said sarcastically with a smile of their own once they got their balance again. Frederick appeared at their elbow and Robin waved to indicate that they were fine. Not a scratch. “Though I do look forwards to falling straight into a pillow.”

Chrom nodded once they had all resumed walking. “It certainly has been a while since our last day long march.”

"Do you miss it?” Robin found themself asking. “Not the war, but being out of the capital and with the Shepherds.”

Robin had the luxury of seeing their friend on a near daily basis and the freedom to slip in among the crowds if they chose to. Chrom had once admitted his envy of into all.

"I did. ...or rather, I do still. But I believe that chapter has closed for me,” Chrom, even in civilian clothing, still had the air of a prince while he spoke and walked. “Helping you feels nearly an indulgence. One last adventure before I settle in fully.”

"Not wrestled in?” Robin teased.

Chrom actually  _ winked _ at Robin. “I'll leave that part to my other half.”

Robin burst into laughter - largely in part to the fact that Chrom had made a sly innuendo without making an absolute fool of himself. And as the light of the inn fell across them, Chrom’s face fell into a expression of faux injury at the length of Robin’s giggling.

-

That evening, once the Shepherds had retired (save for Stahl at guard for the first rotation), Frederick disrobed. Robin, with fewer layers, lie sideways on the mattress in their dressing gown and arms spread.

“How are your feet?” Robin had been wearing their good boots but an entire day walking on stone was good for no one. Their toes curled, uncurled, and Robin nodded.

"Not flat. And I have you to thank for reminding me.” They sat up, one shoulder exposed and hair disheveled from where they had ran their hands through it earlier. “And your back?”

Frederick pulled his button up off with ease. “Not a sore muscle to be found. In thanks to  _ you _ ,” he dipped his head to mirror Robin’s tone of gratefulness. His heart soared at Robin’s tender smile.

He joined them to sit on the edge of the bed, both watching the far wall as if looking out on their garden at home as routine. Frederick’s fingertips bumped against Robin’s and together their hands clasped.

“My dear,” he began. Robin had nearly burned through their list of names in the furs day and without much hope of the final one. “How are you?”

“There is always tomorrow,” they answered after a moment. “And the next day. ...But I will not lie and say I'm not disappointed.”

Robin turned to bury their face against Frederick’s chest and they let out a long sigh. His arm fell across Robin’s shoulders to hug his spouse, to ward away the sorrow.

"Perhaps I had been alone before,” Robin said. They had theorized on what their life had been like before but it was rarely spoken of before these last months. “Perhaps the blade came from somewhere far away - a traveling merchant. A mercenary. Perhaps  _ I _ made it and forgot how.”

The last one ended in a dry chuckle and Frederick cupped Robin’s face. They looked up with those beautiful but pained gold eyes and he kissed their forehead.

“You are not being ridiculous,” Frederick said in a stern tone before Robin could insist they were one. He knew that feeling, knew that wrinkle between their eyebrows, and distant look that told him Robin would try to dismiss their doubts with a callous remark about their own abilities.

Robin managed a small wry smile. “Are you reading my thoughts now, my love?”

Frederick tutted and absently brushed at a wild lock of Robin’s hair to put it back in place. He was merely observant. But Robin was no longer spiraling downwards and a touch of humor would do them good. “You've learned my secret, Robin. You must never tell the recruits.”

Robin lightly clapped their hand against his chest and he pulled them into another hug that they returned. “I am sorry we could not find your answer today.”

“Tomorrow,” they repeated but in affirmation. Determination. “Ricken was invaluable in bringing up the blade like that. I can't believe I had not picked up on it sooner - and after I had looked over it so many times before!”

The fire was returning to Robin’s eyes and they sat back up from the hug. Frederick glanced at the where the sword was stowed away. “Too much familiarity may have made it blind spot.”

A fresh pair of eyes and whatnot. Robin hummed in thought and seemed to decide something. They settled back against Frederick and laced fingers with him once again. Frederick felt the faint scars and warmth of Robin’s hand against his own. Familiar. Home. Family.

Robin kissed him on the cheek and he smiled at them. “Remind me tomorrow to hold the others’ weapons to check something.”

Frederick nodded and Robin sat up further to kiss him again on the lips. His beautiful spouse. “Tomorrow.”


	19. Chapter 19

"Ah- good morning, Master Robin.”

Robin looked up from their meal in surprise; it was rare that Trilla - Senator Griphie’s secretary turned errand runner - showed themself so early in the morning. While Robin had learned to rise early during the wars (largely in thanks to Frederick) Trilla was far from being accustomed. Rather guiltily, Robin and the others has used that to their advantage to dissuade them from singling Chrom’s attention for hours.

“Good morning,” Robin nodded towards the empty seat across from them at the table and closed their book on Themis property rights. Sully and Frederick had both finished their breakfast and had begun to rouse the remainder of the Shepherds and start preparations for their departure so they had the inn’s expansive dining hall all to themself.

The mousy secretary bobbed their head before they slid into the seat with their plate and carefully placed aside a stack of letters wrapped in twine. For a moment neither spoke. Robin had to admit they were not fond of the over eager person but it hardly hurt to be friendly. 

“Will you be headed to the post soon?” Robin’s letter to Lady Say’ri still lay on the bedside table upstairs. “I was hoping to mail something myself.”

Trilla’s glasses slid down their nose with how hard they nodded their head. “Yes. As soon as Ser Sully has seen to her duties and can escort me. I could send it as well.”

Frederick’s imposed rule of going nowhere alone was still in affect. “Thank you. I'll bring it to you before you leave.”

Trilla made a noise that Robin supposed was to be agreeable but instead came out like a cat’s cough and the two fell into an awkward silence.

“How goes your mor-”

“Forgive my question, bu-” began Trilla the same time as Robin. They gestured for Trilla to continue.

“-pardon me. But as you know I have been tasked to have His Excellence overlook the new proposals from the Senate-”

Oh dear. 

“-and while I understand the importance of this journey.” If they saw Robin’s expression they did not react. “I cannot forgive myself if he did not look over Senator Griphie’s new outlining so that he is prepared for when he returns to the capital.”

Trilla pulled another bundle from within the layers of their cloak. An official stamp sealed the waxed paper and they presented it face first to Robin. 

Robin knew what was inside and felt their insides recoil. The senate had been pushing for an entire rewrite of the Plegian-Ylissian trade agreements now that there was no one of the Plegian throne to oppose it. Vultures. Chrom and Lissa had both made their vehement dislike known and  _ yet _ rewrite after rewrite was being laid before Chrom.

“Why are you giving me this?”

“Master Robin, you are His Excellency's best friend, tactician, and advisor. It's imperative that he at least  _ read _ the proposals and he will not listen to a word I say. I understand why,” they added with bitterness which surprised Robin. “But you would know better than I to head into any sort of battle - sword or pen - without preparation would be foolish.”

With hope shining in their eyes, Trilla held their breath in anticipation to Robin’s answer.

“...I cannot do that, Trilla.” Not in any good faith, and certainly not as some sort of “in” to Chrom’s circle. “You- Senator Griphie- will have to present it to Chrom in court.”

If the court was going to try and use Robin as a piece in their game… well, they would have to deal with a other player.

Trilla’s face fell and Robin felt a tinge of pity. From what they had learned from Maribelle’s mastery of law, Trilla would not progress far beyond their current position if they gave away their expressions - and important documents - so readily. Gently, Robin placed their utensils away and took the half eaten meal from the table.

Distantly, Robin could hear footsteps upon the staircases as the inn’s tenants roused. Standing, book under arm and plate in hand, Robin said, “Good day, Trilla.”

“But- ...yes, of course. To you as well, Master Robin.”

With a final nod, Robin took a swift exit and left Trilla to guiltily return the documents and eat in silence. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy birthday, frederick :*


	20. Chapter 20

"Willards? Yeah, she left not a week ago. Packed up and left by throwin' me the key at telling me to watch over the place.” 

Robin felt their smile tighten to the point of cracking - their voice certainly did when they managed to spit out an incredulous, “ _ really?! _ ”

“Is there any notice of when she will return?” Frederick asked, his eyebrows crinkled together in concern.

The short man seemed to relish the gobsmacked faces huddled around him and hooked thumbs under his suspenders. He rocked back on his heels and puffed his chest out.

“She did, but what ahh… what brings you here, travelers? Master Willards is top notch but you don't seem to be simply shopping for weapons.”

Robin spluttered. “We sought her expertise in identifying a sword - or perhaps even a lead if she didn't.”

“Can't try other local smiths?”

“We  _ have _ !” Robin nearly swallowed their tongue from the outburst and clacked their jaw shut. They felt like pulling their hood up and pulling it shut from the spike in frustration.

"This is our final stop in the city,” Chrom broke in. “And we have very few leads to go on - may we leave a message or send a letter…?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Your magistrate,” Maribelle had muscled her way to the front of the gathered Shepherds and stood proudly before the man. Even though he stood taller and on the smith’s doorstep, she seemed to dwarf him by six heads. “I am Magistrate Maribelle of Themis on official business and I require to speak with Master Willards as soon as possible!”

She had the intended effect.

-

“Maribelle, I do not know how to thank you enough,” Robin gushed once the Shpeherds had acquired the address of Master Willards’ destination. She had needed a vacation according to the man - who had been asked to watch over her wares until her return.

"Think nothing of it, Robin.” Maribelle tossed her head. “My presence is known in the city and neither Lissa or Chrom should reveal themselves at this time.”

Robin nodded at the logic. “Still-”

“Not to mention tight  _ ghastly _ customer service. Even if he was appointed watch, he is certainly doing no favors to Master Willards’ customer loyalty.”

Ah.

-

Maribelle saw them to the city’s gates. Her own battles needed to be won, she had said while tearfully kissing Lissa’s cheeks in goodbye.

"And I intend to  _ win,”  _ she promised.

Pegasi squads would be arriving within the week to assist in rooting out the remaining bandits from the territory, Chrom promised her. Robin certainly did not envy the mountain of paperwork Maribelle would be faced with in the coming months when it came to abandoned property.

“Write me, dear. And best of luck to you all!”

Robin had at admire her tenacity as they waved goodbye to her and Southtown. They hoped they could do the same.


	21. Chapter 21

Southtown was not the only township, Robin reminded themself rather chidingly once they and the Shepherds left the city walls and to the rolling plains of surrounding farmland. They had foolishly gotten too invested in a single plan instead of considering the resources available - that is, the villages and towns that filled Themis.

Robin breathed in the summer breeze and looked out onto the sheep that dotted the pastures on either side of the wide road. Southtown was merely a first step. They exhaled, feeling their focus begin to return. Perhaps they had gotten too jarred by worrying for Morgan's safety and acknowledging that they had indeed remembered something. But if from their own time or the one that Grima had brought with them-

"Master Robin!”

"Yes?”

Robin turned in their saddle to the voice just as they realized it was Trilla again. They looked just as uncomfortable sitting on their old mare as they had when leaving the capital days ago. Trilla let out a tight sigh of relief at being heard and Robin had to wonder how long they had been calling.

They sat up straight in the saddle to have their horses walk abreast, looking all the while embarrassed. “I had delivered your letter to the post master.”

There was a beat where Robin waited for more, but Trilla was not forthcoming. Instead, Robin smiled gently.

“Thank you, Trilla. That's one thing off my mind.”

"Er- you're welcome,” they managed, caught off guard by the thanks.

Robin’s smile broadened and they used the moment to switch the subject to something more mundane and friendly. If they could gain Trilla as an ally of the court… well, that would be more than one thing off Robin’s mind.

-

“Nostalgic,” Lissa said to the grassy field.

“Maybe I ought to go lie in it for old time's sake.”

Laughter buzzed in Frederick's ear, but he could not find it in himself to do more than smile fondly. The months of Robin's disappearance had felt like a lifetime and he was not keen to remember them.

He watched Robin, Lissa, and Sully walk off the trail to wander through the wildflowers. The hazy heat was beginning to brown the grass and briefly Frederick concerned himself of the state of the gardens he tended to back in Ylsstol. He shook his head at himself, the royal gardeners were more than capable after all. But then he felt Chrom clap a hand against one of his shoulder guards.

“Faring well, Frederick?”

"As well as can be, Milord,” Frederick replied. His expression must have betrayed his thoughts. “I was wondering how the herb gardens at home were taking to the heat.”

He did not miss Chrom’s brief glance skywards, as if the near eyeroll was to ask for patience.

Chrom's concern was appreciated, but Frederick frowned at the idea of burdening either Chrom or Lissa with his own sorrows - even as needless as they were now. With Robin not even twenty paces away, merrily chatting with their friends, he could hardly complain.

Frederick’s lips twitched upwards into a content smile as he and Chrom both watched Lissa rope Sully and Robin into making flower crowns.

"It's a relief to have them back.”

“Indeed,” Frederick agreed, surprised and then annoyed at his voice touched with a shades of emotion. “My apologies, it appears this stroll down memory lane isn't quite as painless as I had expected. Please do not concern yourself with-”

He quickly gathered himself, embarrassed his liege had to see him like this. But Chrom wasn't looking upon him with scorn or pity, not that he would, but in understanding. They had both gotten their best friend back, after all.

“Frederick, peace,” Chrom said. “I ask as a friend, not as your exalt.”

Frederick bit back a stubborn “you are my exalt first and foremost.” Arguing that point had proved fruitless against Chrom and Lissa for years.

"This place…” Chrom looked back to spot Robin had been found in, farther away now that they had all passed it. “It fills me with joy and suffering both. We all missed Robin.”

“Yes,” Frederick agreed after a long moment.

“I find that, even with Robin so near, I am terrified they will vanish again. It's ludicrous of me, milord, fearing that uncovering their past will…”

"...Take them away again?” Chrom offered, and Frederick nodded tightly.

He had confessed as much to Robin months ago, knowing truly they would never leave him like that. At the time, Robin had dissuade his worries, but it hadn't meant they had gone completely.

“I've worried too. And Lissa, even though she won't say it. Not after Emm.”

Another bitter regret. A horrific shared memory.

“Forgive me, milord, for bringing these matters up.”

"There's nothing to forgive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh shit this is a year old now


End file.
